Triumvirate
by VectorCrocodileFangirl
Summary: It's a secret kept fiercely close to their hearts, but when a secret involves three people, it takes three people to keep it.
1. Triumvirate

**A/N: **My first real attempt at fic for this fandom, posted for the convenience of others who I keep shoving it at.

Contains hints of slash and some overly affectionate behavior between siblings, but given that they are in fact cats I would only read as far into it as you would like. Assumes the characters are anthropomorphic as represented in the film and on stage.

* * *

"So.. are you two the only cats from your litter?"

It was such an innocently posed question that Tugger and Munkustrap didn't even bother to think about the source of Mistoffelees' curiosity, but all the same, the lie was second nature at this point. They couldn't _not_ keep it, not after so many years. All it took was a single glance between the two brothers and out poured the well-rehearsed story.

"We weren't exactly well looked after," Tugger said, with a practiced careless shrug. Something that made everything he said seem unimportant and completely believable. "We could have other brothers or sisters out there who survived, but we've never met them."

The sad tale of the storyteller and the heartthrob was the one that Jennyanydots would tell any kitten who sat by her hearth with her and promised to be quiet and respectful; Rum Tum Tugger and Munkustrap were two of Old Deuteronomy's many children, but because of his duties to the tribe and to the Everlasting Cat, he could not care for every litter he sired and so left them in the care of the queen who mothered them, accepting them into the tribe later in life if they so desired and wishing them well in their lives if they did not. Unfortunately, the brothers had lost their mother at a young age, although from what no one could say; the kittens had guessed everything from a car accident to abandonment, but no one dared to ask in even the most respectful of ways, in case they crossed some sort of line or stirred up terrible memories. They were barely old enough to take care of themselves, having been weaned from their mother's milk hardly a month prior. It had taken them many months to learn of their father's identity and of the jellicle tribe, and when they arrived, they had been bedraggled and malnourished from their time living of off scraps and alone in the streets. Deuteronomy had offered them refuge immediately, of course, and they had grown up in the care of the tribe. They had been nothing less than a fixture of the jellicles ever since. But Mistoffelees had noticed during the telling of the story that it said nothing about any of their other littermates, and had grown suspicious.

"Surely you would know them if you saw them, though?" he asked. The magician had something up his sleeve, but as usual, no one could see it. To everyone around, he seemed like the picture of innocent curiosity. Tugger and Munkustrap exchanged another look, and this time it was Munkustrap who spoke up.

"I- suppose we might, yes," he said, unsurely. "But we were _very_ young. If any of them are alive now, they might look entirely different, beyond recognition." The other few cats that were lingering about within hearing range had been previously uninterested in Mistoffelees' questions, but a few ears were starting to prick up. Mistoffelees himself made a considering noise, tilting his head back and forth.

"But you have never recognized another cat as one of your littermates?" he continued. If anyone had been paying close attention, they might have seen Munkustrap's hackles raise, or Tugger's ears droop slightly, as Mistoffelees did.

"Like Tugger said, we're the only ones we know of," Munkustrap said, perhaps a bit too firmly to be inconspicious. His tone was fairly obvious; the topic was one to be dropped, and quickly. But if there were ever words that could quell the curiosity of a magic kitten, they had never been found before. "Why are you so curious?"

"I just found it strange how Jennyanydots' story doesn't mention them at all," he replied, approaching Munkustrap's defensiveness with an even more intense curiosity. "You would think that children of Old Deuteronomy would be easy to find, even in a city as large as London..."

"Deuteronomy has a lot of children," Tugger interjected. "We weren't the first to get lost in the shuffle. We were lucky to figure out we were his sons at all." Now Tugger seemed to be getting just as defensive as his brother, the case becoming curioser and curioser.

"..and that someone would go looking for others when they found out the two of you were alive," he finished, not skipping a beat in spite of the interruption.

Munkustrap was visibly _fuming_. Mistoffelees took a step back, almost feeling forced to do so by the force of his glare. He had seen Munkustrap this angry before, but never over something as inconsequential as a curious kit's line of questions, insistent and brusque though they may be. Admittedly, he hadn't upheld the level of manners with the two older toms that he should have, but his questioning nature had seized him in the moment and he assumed the worst he would get would be a lecture on respect for the elder members of the tribe. This was far from that.

"I told you already, _we are the only ones_," he said in a commanding roar. The few cats in the area that hadn't been interested in their conversation certainly were now; for Munkustrap to yell at Mistoffelees like that, or indeed at any kit, was completely unheard of. There was genuine anger there.

Even amidst his shock, Mistoffelees couldn't help but notice the way the attention hogging Tugger had stepped back behind his brother, as though he were trying to distance himself from the questions or even limit his presence in general. Even more interesting was the fact that Munkustrap reached back to grab his brother's hand, not to force him to stay but simply to hold as if for reassurance; it was an automatic action, one that Munkustrap and Tugger alike didn't seem to really notice.

Magicians were well versed in the ways of noticing even the smallest of details. It was those ways that told Mistoffelees that he hadn't just struck a nerve, he had veritably beaten a rather delicate one.

Delicate enough that when Munkustrap and Tugger both turned their backs on him and walked away, Munkustrap still holding onto his brother's hand like the world was ending, he wasn't sure they would walk back to him ever again.

* * *

"Young Mistoffelees is quite upset."

It wasn't often that Old Deuteronomy visited the junkyard outside of his yearly visits for the ball, but the combination of turmoil and gossip that had been flying among the jellicles and even outside of the yard had been enough to draw him in. He could see clearly, from the state of Munkustrap and Tugger's virtual disappearance from the yard, that he had not been wrong to involve himself.

"As cold as this may sound, I really don't care how he feels about this whole mess," Munkustrap returned, pacing with the fury of an angered cat bordering on the line of feral. The anger in him was so visible that the rest of the jellicles had been avoiding him completely since the incident, afraid to approach, and Deuteronomy had asked Alonzo to take over his patrols before the tension in every one of Munkustrap's muscles snapped and prompted him to attack someone. "He shouldn't have pried. They all know better than to pry, all but him. He needs to learn."

"It was a simple matter of curiosity," the leader of the jellicles said with an even temper and a lifetime of patience. Munkustrap's rages were few and far between, but they blazed brilliantly when they came along, like the tail of a comet. "The both of you have grown quite close to him since the last jellicle ball. It only makes sense that he would want to learn more about you."

"Because asking invasive personal questions in front of half a dozen other cats is a surefire way to endear him to us, right?" Munkustrap spat. When furious eyes met his father's calm ones, his entire body seemed to droop, and he allowed himself to drop onto the nearest crate serving duty as one of the den's chairs.

"You've kept this secret for a very long time, my child," Deuteronomy said gently, leaning towards his son from his own seat. "Perhaps it's not one worth the pain of keeping any longer."

Munkustrap raised his head, and although the fight had gone out of him after Deuteronomy's careful application of patience and understanding, there was still steel left in his eyes. "I can't," he said firmly, quickly hanging his head and shaking it. "You know I can't. It's to protect Tugger."

"Is it?" Deuteronomy asked firmly. "Keeping it has seemed to do the both of you more harm than good, not to mention what it's done to our tribe. You have alienated one of its members almost entirely, your brother has fled, and the others avoid you like an enemy while whispering rumors behind your back."

"Mistoffelees will be _fine_," Munkustrap said. "And I don't care what the others are whispering about us. But Tugger running is exactly _why_ I can't just stop keeping the secret, father. He wants to run any time someone even wants to know if we _have_ siblings, and he'll be gone for a week, at least. If people knew the truth, he might leave for good."

"The two of you have a bond forged by more than blood," his father said softly. "Do you truly believe he would leave you because of his own shame? Moreover, the more you both refuse to acknowledge the past, the worse his struggle to avoid it will become."

Munkustrap shook his hung head again, with less care this time, a man fighting back tears he refused to be seen crying. Deuteronomy sighed, shifting in his seat.

"It is not my secret to tell. It is something between you and your brother, and I will respect whatever decision the two of you choose to make in its regard," he said finally. "But I fear that the days will not be long before you will have to choose between the trust of those around you, and this secret of yours."

His son nodded firmly, but he could see clearly that his mind had not been changed. No matter how irrational, Munkustrap would do anything to protect his brother- from harm, from the world, from the truth. Although they would fight at the drop of a hat, even the threat of the tribe tearing itself apart from the inside would not move Munkustrap. The bond between brothers was one that could not be broken, even by reason itself.

* * *

Whispers spread quickly among the jellicle tribe, and the quickest of whispers rarely stayed within its fence. Even secrets that by all means should have been kept within the tribe left it quickly, and it was no great secret how they travelled; as soon as a piece of information reached the ears of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, it was all one could do to hope that no one was willing to pay for it. Unfortunately, there were those who knew how to loosen their lips without pay or the promise of it.

The pair of thieves slunk into the bar's basement through the back window, as they always did. They could have gone through the front door at any time except for rush hour, but it was almost tradition for them to come through the back window, and it was precisely where Macavity waited for them every time.

"If it isn't my two favorite spies," he said as the pair landed nimbly on the concrete floor. They had expected him to be there, of course, because why else would they be at the bar in the first place? But they hadn't precisely expected him to be virtually on top of them when they arrived, and with the way he was looming over the two of them, that was almost literal. "Was your latest trip to the junkyard fun? I have to assume so, because you were supposed to be back _two days_ ago."

The siblings exchanged a quick glance with mouths hanging open, because what did you say to a looming crime lord who looked about ready to quite literally skin you alive and use your pelt to decorate his office? Luckily Rumpleteazer's brain had always moved a bit more quickly than her brother's, and where Mungo's mouth was still hanging open and flapping uselessly with half-formed words, she dove quickly into an explanation.

"Some interestin' stuff's been goin' on down at the yard, sir," she said, giving him her best look of practiced innocence. "Mungo and I, we stuck around ta see what was gonna happen. But we were gonna come back when it stopped bein' interestin', boss, I swear! And here we are!"

Mungojerrie had started to mimic his sister's look of feigned innocence, and Macavity sighed and rolled his eyes. They were cowardly half-wits, but Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had somehow managed to earn the trust of the jellicle tribe even when they knew they worked for Macavity, and a man on the inside was never something Macavity liked to work without. Perhaps the other jellicles saw them as simply too stupid to do any real harm, or perhaps they had some genuinely likeable trait that he had yet to discover; either way, where they failed as employees, they prospered as double-crossers, betraying any and all information they could find on the jellicles for the promise of their own safety and wellbeing.

"And what was so interesting that it could have kept you from me for two full days, hm?" As angry as he still was, he was now more curious than anything. If something had prompted the cat burglars to risk a thorough beating, it had to be something big. Something worth more to Macavity than complete obedience.

"It's about Munkus and Tugger, sir," Mungojerrie jumped in, seemingly having regained his mental and verbal footing. "They gots a secret, everyone figures, about their brothers 'n sisters."

"Munkus nearly tore poor Mistoffelees' head off when he asked about them, he did!" Rumpleteazer finished. The way they finished each other's stories irritated him, even moreso that neither of them even seemed to notice each other's interruptions, like they constantly operated on a single brain. "And Tugger just ran off somewhere, ain't been seen for days!"

"We tried to find out what the secret was, boss," Mungo stepped in. "But they're keepin' it close. They don't want anyone to know."

"Of course they don't, you morons," Macavity scowled. "If someone as stupid as the two of you could figure it out, then it wouldn't be a secret worth keeping, would it? Now get out of my sight before I decorate the walls with you."

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had no intentions of sticking around to see if that threat was genuine, and as soon as Macavity took a step away from them, they were gone like lightning into the dark recesses of the basement storeroom. Once they had fled, Macavity gave himself a moment to think, then went straight for his old personal stores that he kept in the back room.

* * *

Deuteronomy wasn't wrong, and that was probably what bothered Munkustrap the most. He wasn't wrong because he could see that the other tribe members' whispers were starting to be less good natured; even the most loyal of them were having doubts, curious as to what Munkustrap was going to such lengths to hide. What Tugger was willing to all but disappear to avoid facing. He could even see Alonzo and Demeter watching him carefully from afar, their eyes begging for the truth.

He couldn't afford to give it to them, and that was the worst part. He was going to tear the tribe apart for Tugger's sake, and he wouldn't regret it for a moment. The thought scared him more than anything, but he could worry later.

"You should come home."

He sat beside Tugger in the rain gutter, ignoring the way rotting leaves stuck to his fur. Tugger hung his head and kicked his legs slightly, determinedly not meeting Munkustrap's eye.

"Are they still talking about it?" he asked, giving Munkustrap a hard look. This time it was the tabby who was unable to meet Tugger's eye. "That's what I thought."

"They can talk about it all they want," Munkustrap said firmly. "We're not going to tell them, and Deuteronomy won't, either. You know things always go back to normal after a while."

"I'm _tired_, Munk. I don't want to deal with all of that right now," he said, equally as firmly. "I don't even want to think about it. We've messed everything up."

Munkustrap reached over and firmly took his brother's paw in his own, giving it a light shake. "Everything is going to be _fine_, Tugs. I've never been wrong about that before, have I?" Tugger looked up at him with tired eyes, the two meeting each other's gaze for the first time since Munkustrap had managed to track him down. He couldn't help but laugh at his brother's forced smile. "And I'm not going back until you come with me. So we can sit here in a gutter together, or we can _go home_."

Tugger leaned over and nuzzled into the crook of his brother's neck, clasping Munkustrap's hand tightly with both of his own. "Alright," he said with resignation. "But that's the last time that's going to work."

As if it hadn't worked on him the last seven times.

* * *

The junkyard was kept on a constant rotational patrol and was home to two cats with a peculiar sense for danger, but when Macavity wanted something badly enough, it would take far more than that to keep him away from it. Security was already lax enough with Munkustrap's departure, which Rumpleteazer had faithfully reported earlier in the day under his guidance, and Coricopat and Tantomile's senses were on constant edge because of his furious stalking around the yard. Sneaking in was hardly a difficult task, even.. _inconvenienced_ as he was.

The first cat to notice his break-in was Old Deuteronomy, but that was likely because he was laying across the table in the middle of his den.

"Macavity," the tribe's leader said slowly, with equal parts malice and confusion. Macavity could tell he was barely resisting the urge to look over his shoulder for assailants ready to swoop in and steal him away again, this time with no Mistoffelees to magic him back and ruin Macavity's plans as quickly as they'd been put in motion. It made the cat king of crime laugh, bitterly.

"Relax, old man," he drawled, and it was truly a slurred drawl, aided greatly by the half a bottle of stolen half-century old wine in his system. "I have no interest in you tonight. I came to have a nice, friendly chat with your precious offspring. But since they're not here right now, I thought I might stop in for a chat."

"I have nothing to say to you, you scoundrel," Old Deuteronomy huffed, never taking his eyes off of Macavity, even as he searched for somewhere to sit. Macavity ran a hand down his face with a sigh, taking a long look at the half-empty bottle in his hand before deciding that one more swig couldn't possibly hurt.

"Really? Nothing at all? Because I can think of a few things I would like to say to you, most of them entirely unpleasant." Even clearly drunk off of his rocker, Macavity still looked every bit as menacing; his fur was even more wild, if that was possible, and threw his cold, crazy eyes into a sharp shadow. His claws tapping rhythmically against the table wasn't exactly comforting either. "I'm guessing you know why I'm here, then?"

"You're here because of your own selfish pride, and nothing more," he replied, staring the criminal down with a hardened gaze. All Macavity could do was laugh- a restless, terrifying laugh.

"Of everyone involved in this situation, _I'm_ the selfish one? Spare me the guilt trip, Deuteronomy; we both know that ship sailed long ago," he sneered. "But, between the two of us? I think Munkustrap made the right choice. Keeping this buried would have saved the both of them a lot of grief."

And then he was gone.

* * *

Mistoffelees poked his head out from the toaster he had been hiding in, watching from above as Munkustrap and Tugger walked in through the front gate. Others were watching as well; he could see Alonzo at his post, Pouncival and Tumblebrutus frozen mid-playfight, and Jennyanydots peering out from her den's window. Munkustrap ignored them all, but Mistoffelees could see Tugger keeping his head bowed low and occasionally whispering something to the tabby tom, until Munkustrap whispered something in return, put his hand on Tugger's lower back, and steered him off towards one of the trash alcoves. Although the other cats all returned to their business, albeit more tense and on edge than they had been before, Mistoffelees followed; he had poked his head up out of hiding to apologize to the brothers, and he was planning to follow through on that. If his lethal curiosity didn't get to him, first.

As luck would have it, it didn't have time too. Something more lethal even than that came first.

The entrance of the junyard was relatively uncluttered, allowing for freedom of movement to other parts of the yard and making an excellent clearing for jellicle activities. Munkustrap and Tugger were crossing from one side to the other with Mistoffelees following inconspicuously across trashpiles when the noise stopped all three dead in their tracks, something between the loud _clatter-clang_ of a fallen trash can and the rolling rumble of a clap of thunder. It sent Mistoffelees skittering down the side of the mountain of refuse, landing nimbly at the bottom with nobody to admire the way he landed perfectly on his toes because everyone's eyes were on the black fire-smoke in the middle of the junkyard, and the figure in the middle of it. The noise had scared several toms and queens out of hiding that even Mistoffelees hadn't noticed, and they were all focused intently on Macavity in all of his wild glory.

Tugger looked like he wanted to bolt. Or vomit. Or possibly both at the same time. Munkustrap, on the other hand, simply looked like he couldn't process what was going on.

Macavity took a long swig of his wine and pointed one rakish claw at the brothers.

"I've heard the two of you are keeping secrets. Not a polite hobby, that."

* * *

Munkustrap's entire body bristled at the sound of Macavity's voice, which would have been a reasonable reaction when it came to the criminal tom in general, but was particularly valid all things considered. Macavity was trouble in any circumstance, but a drunk Macavity talking about keeping secrets was enough to make Munkustrap want to shove his brother in the direction of the entrance, tell him to run, and follow no matter what threat that left the tribe with.

"_Why_ are _you_ here?" he hissed, with every ounce of built-up frustration and anger from the past few days. It was easy to unleash it all against someone the tribe would unanimously agree deserved it. It threw him when Macavity answered his anger with a low, bitter laugh, although he wasn't quite sure why, as he knew too well that Macavity was completely crazy.

"Is that really the question you want to be asking right now? If I were you, my first question would be 'how did you get past my patrols', or 'how many people have you managed to strangle while I've been out fetching my irresponsible dreck of a brother', but perhaps that's just my paranoia and half a bottle of booze talking," he slurred, putting his free hand to the side of his face and shaking his head in disapproval. "The answer to that second question, for the record, is zero, which I think I should get a reward for because just being here is aggravating enough to make me want to toss a newborn kit to a starving junkyard dog."

"Get out of here, Macavity," Munkustrap said, low and dark. "You have ten seconds before I tear you to shreds."

Another laugh, this one loud and mocking.

"You? Tear me to shreds? Oh, I'd like to see you even lay a _finger_ on me without the help of your precious tribe," he drawled, and looked around him at the queens and toms frozen in place and staring at the three toms like they were observing some kind of forbidden ritual. "And they certainly don't seem to be coming to help you at all. Maybe they all think this is another secret they're not privy to."

As Macavity spoke, Munkustrap saw both Alonzo and Mistoffelees moving in the corner of his vision, and he raised a hand to signal them to stay where they were. Although he hated to admit it, Macavity was right; without unanimous support from the tribe, even driving him off was almost impossible, nevermind soundly beating him in a fight.

"Did you come here just to show me how inadequate I am and to insult my family, Macavity?" he asked, lower now but with just as much intense hate.

"No, but those are both _delightful_ bonuses," he admitted. "No, I came here because two thieving little birdies told me that you've been storming around like wrath itself because of some _big, terrible_ _secret_ you've been keeping, and then I found this _wonderful_ vintage of wine that I nicked from a distant relative of the royal family's, and while I was looking through my things I happened to find something I thought you might like to have back."

The master criminal twirled his hand more for show than anything else, and wrapped his hand around something that was somewhere else, bringing it to him where he was now. With another deep swig of wine, he tossed it over Munkustrap's shoulder to Tugger, who caught it nimbly. The two brothers looked at the projectile, something long and thin that Tugger draped across his fingers. It looked like nothing more than a simple leather collar with metal studs.

Tugger blanched. If he looked like he was going to throw up before, now he looked like he was about to drop dead on the spot. Munkustrap whirled back on Macavity and hissed furiously, but the fiery cat didn't so much as flinch.

"I didn't even realize I still had that all these years, but there you go," Macavity said with a fluorish of his hand. "Back with its rightful owner now."

"_Get out of my junkyard_," Munkustrap growled, but Macavity just gave him a quiet and subdued smile. One that could not possibly mean anything good.

"Why?" he asked, with an amused chuckle. "I thought Deuteronomy's policy was to welcome _all_ members of the family."

Gasps went up among the other jellicles. Munkustrap could see Alonzo clap his hands over his mouth, and Mistoffelees' eyes widen to impossible saucer-dishes. The previously silent junkyard clearing was suddenly filled with murmurs, mostly those of disbelief. Macavity simply continued to laugh. And as he laughed, he started to shift.

It was mockery, above all else. Mockery and power. His bright red and orange and white fur changed, losing its color, it's vibrancy, it's patterning. In moments his fur was sleek and silver and deeply striped, making him into a funhouse mirror-image of Munkustrap. The shift continued, dappling him with gold and brown, a maine coon pelt that was much more fitting for his uncontrollably shaggy fur. And finally it shifted to something in between- not quite a combination of the two, but they could both be seen all the same. Grey-brown shag and stripes, not as dark as Munkustrap's but there all the same.

He didn't just look like them. Had he been standing next to them, he would have looked like a missing puzzle piece finally put in its place. Even all wild fur and crazy eyes and claws like knives, he was their spitting image. He was their _brother_.

He gave his siblings a self-satisfied smirk.

"I'm home."

* * *

Tugger honestly wanted to throw up. His innate confidence had already been shattered just by the _thought_ of someone stumbling into the truth, and now it was being thrown in his face. Being thrown in his face by _Macavity_, who he had made a distinct point of avoiding completely since he was a kitten.

There was a reason he had been mysteriously absent when the mystery cat had invaded the last jellicle ball.

His instincts were pulling him in different directions- every muscle in his body was screaming for him to _run_, escape out the open front gate or across the clearing or into one of the trash piles, while his protective instinct was telling him to put himself between Munkustrap and Macavity the same way Munkustrap was doing for him. At the same time, the collar he was death-gripping acted like an anchor, keeping him fixed in place. Keeping him staring at Macavity.

His heart rose into his throat when he saw Macavity's fur shifting. He could recognize the criminal cat as his brother even with the strange red and black coat, but seeing him the way he used to be was like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut short by Munkustrap's loud, territorial hiss.

"You don't belong here," he snarled. "Don't pretend you're entitled to anything because we were born in the same litter."

"Then don't pretend you're entitled to _forget_ that we were," Macavity spat, baring his humongous fangs. Tugger lurched forward, caught between his anchor and his instinct, and Macavity's attention snapped from Munkustrap to him. Every muscle in his body tensed, but he dropped his menacing snarl, and regarded Tugger with a nod. Tugger ducked his head and broke the gaze, and Macavity's attention quickly swivelled back to Munkustrap.

"You're a criminal and a disgrace," the tribe protector said, keeping his head held high. Showing Macavity no fear. "You gave up the privilege of calling yourself our brother a long time ago."

That made something inside of Macavity snap. He snarled like a wild beast and stormed forward. Tugger lunged, putting himself between his brothers and keeping Munkustrap held back with one arm. Macavity paused, less than a foot left between them now, then fell back on his heels; Munkustrap, who had been too shocked by his brother's sudden move to do or say anything, grabbed Tugger by his mane and pushed him back behind him again.

"If it weren't for _me_, you two would have starved to death in one of those Everlasting-forsaken alleyways," he said, spitting at Munkustrap's feet and taking another swig of his wine as though even saying it left a bad taste in his mouth. "If I hadn't been a _criminal_, you wouldn't be here right now, you ungrateful _swine_."

"Enough!" Munkustrap roared. "You stole because you liked it. It had nothing to do with either of us."

Macavity laughed, deep and short and bitter. "And you wouldn't know what that feels like, would you, Munkus? To break the rules for the sake of your own pleasure." He wandered a few steps away, turning his back to the brothers and looking around at the other toms and queens who were warily watching the spectacle unfolding in front of them. Demeter, who had crept up behind the shocked Alonzo, snarled at him when he caught her eye; he sneered back, as though insulted by the very idea that she might be of any concern to him. "Tugger, on the other hand.."

That was the final straw on a very weak camel's back. Tugger tried to grab Munkustrap before he could lunge, but he was already too late; Munkustrap let out a horrifying yowl and leapt at the criminal cat's back. Macavity's distraction seemed at first to give Munkustrap the upper hand, but as the tabby got in range enough to take the first swipe, Macavity swung his fist and hit Munkustrap square in the stomach. There must have been some magical force behind the hit, because Munkustrap was sent flying, skidding to a stop just behind Tugger. The maine coon dropped to his knees beside his brother; Munkustrap didn't seem to be injured, aside from being stunned by the blow and the accompanying flight, but it was hard to tell.

"The two of you owe me everything," Macavity muttered, and anyone listening closely enough would have been able to hear the genuine anguish in his voice. He turned to look at Tugger, who bared his teeth and stood tall, his fur bristling.

"Munkustrap doesn't owe you _anything_," he hissed. Macavity whirled on him, one hand raised with terrifying knife claws ready to tear him to shreds. Munkustrap let out a choking gasp, and the other jellicles all flinched or cried out, but Tugger stood firm. "And I owe you even less than that."

Macavity froze, claws inches from Tugger's face, and let out an agonized hiss. He closed his fist and dropped it to his side, taking a few steps back without ever taking his eyes off of Tugger. Slowly, his brilliant red and black coloring returned, making him back into the fiery monster that the jellicles feared.

"I should have left the two of you to starve."

And then he was gone.

_Gone again,_ Tugger reminded himself. Because it hadn't been the first time Macavity had left them.

* * *

It had taken a combined effort between Jennyanydots and Old Deuteronomy, who Alonzo had run to fetch at the earliest opportunity, to calm the chaos and get everyone away from the stunned Munkustrap. Once Tugger had made sure Munkustrap was in good hands, he had used the residual chaos, mostly that left by the confused and terrified kittens, to escape. When Munkustrap later asked after him, no one could remember seeing him leave, but no one could find him anywhere in the yard, either. That was when Mistoffelees had offered his services, more to get a chance to speak with Munkustrap than for any other reason.

He crept into Munkustrap's den, where the tabby had been carried by Alonzo to recover, his stomach in too much pain to allow for freedom of movement. He assumed the tabby would be sleeping, resting off the excitement of the encounter, but when he poked his head into the small room by the hearth, he could see him talking quietly with Demeter. Not one to interrupt, he ducked his head back into the other room and listened in quietly.

"Can you ever forgive me?" Munkustrap's voice was quiet, but there was no pleading there; there was simply resignation, as though he had already decided that Demeter couldn't possibly forgive him.

The queen was quiet for a moment.

"You lied to me," she said softly, and Mistoffelees risked turning his head slightly so he could see inside the room, where Munkustrap was lying on a goose-down pillow surrounded by blankets. Demeter was standing over him and resting her hand on his shoulder. "And you didn't trust me, even after all we've been through together. I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you for that quite yet. But I could never blame you for who you're related to."

Munkustrap tilted his head and nuzzled against her forearm, and she raised her hand to cup his face and run her thumb along his cheekbone.

"I should leave you to rest," she said finally, dropping her hand from his face. Mistoffelees ducked back into the other room as she turned away from Munkustrap and walked straight in his direction. As she moved to the front door, he lingered next to it as though he had just entered and bowed his head respectfully as she passed. She returned the gesture, no words being exchanged between the two. Once the door had closed behind her, Mistoffelees let himself into the other room, keeping his head bowed respectfully.

"Hello, Munkustrap," he said quietly, standing just inside of the doorway. "I.. thought I might be able to help find Tugger."

Munkustrap shook his head. "That's alright, Mistoffelees. He deserves some time to himself, and probably needs it badly." Mistoffelees nodded, still keeping his head down, and turned to leave. As he did, Munkustrap raised a paw. "Misto, wait."

The magician turned around and Munkustrap signalled for him to move closer. Mistoffelees did as instructed, moving to stand next to Munkustrap's resting place.

"Please, sit down," he said, patting the blanket and pillow next to him. Mistoffelees sat down somewhat reluctantly, his entire body tense. Munkustrap reached over to brush his fingers through his headfur.

"I'm sorry I asked you about your siblings," the tomkit said softly, ducking his head under Munkustrap's touch. "I can see why you wanted to keep it a secret."

"No, Mistoffelees," Munkustrap said gently, rubbing one of Mistoffelees' ears. "No. _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you, and I shouldn't have tried to keep this a secret for so long. There was no way it could end well. You're not to blame here."

Mistoffelees purred, rubbing up against Munkustrap's hand. He moved in closer to the tabby, curling up next to him and allowing him to put an arm around him.

"You have to understand," he said softly, continuing to rub the tomkit behind the ears. "I did all of this to protect Tugger. I couldn't let Macavity back into our lives, even just as a thought."

"Why?" Mistoffelees asked. "I mean- I understand why no one would want anyone to know Macavity was related to them. But why are you so scared for Tugger?"

Munkustrap let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down his face, and for a moment Mistoffelees thought he might have hit another nerve. But the tribe protector was silent only for a few moments before he spoke, with what looked like the beginning of tears in his eyes.

"Because," he said finally, speaking slowly and carefully. "Tugger- loved Macavity _fiercely_. More than he loved me back then, I'm sure."

Mistoffelees' eyes widened; it was hard to comprehend Tugger loving anyone more fiercely than he loved Munkustrap, after seeing the two alone together and uninhibited for the first time. Munkustrap nodded; he knew it was hard to comprehend anyone loving Macavity like that, seeing the monster he had become.

"Macavity was Tugger's entire world. And Tugger was Macavity's. No one was hit harder by the way Macavity ended up than Tugger, but he wasn't always like that. He wasn't lying when he said that he started stealing in order to keep us alive."

* * *

The late evening was cold and rainy, which was very much on par with early spring evenings in London. Munkustrap, nothing more than a kitten at a time, peered out of the empty wooden crate that he had turned into their makeshift home to wait out the weather and cold nights. He and Tugger always stuck together, but Macavity had always been more daring than either of them, and had promised to bring them back some food. It was a big promise, considering they hadn't been able to find a decent meal digging in the trash cans for days, and all three of them were constantly hungry. It had gotten so bad that none of them even really noticed it anymore, but Munkustrap could see the way Tuggers' ribs were starting to show through his thin, wiry frame.

"Is Macavity back yet?" the dishevelled coonlet asked, grooming his completely out-of-control fur into something remotely presentable, although they were all so dirty that it didn't really matter anyway. It would take more than a tongue bath to get out the dirt that was completely matted into their fur.

"Not yet," Munkustrap said, letting the torn towel they'd thrown over the entrance to act as a sort of door fall back into place. He could practically _feel_ Tugger's concerned pout, and he walked back to his brother and butted his head gently against his. "I'm sure he'll be back soon, though. He probably just doesn't want to come back empty handed."

Tugger sighed and nuzzled against the side of Munkustrap's head, tail flicking this way and that, before retreating to the far corner of the crate. The tabby brother went back to his position, staring out of the crate by lifting the towel out of his way, but it wasn't long before he heard a distinct _thump_ and Tugger start to squeal. He immediately whirled around, afraid that something had managed to find its way into the crate while he wasn't paying attention, and was greeted with the sight of Macavity pinning Tugger to the ground and aggressively grooming him.

"Maaaac," Tugger whined, although there was a playful laugh in it that made it hard to believe he was at all upset about the situation. "Ged'off!"

With a fang-filled grin, Macavity did as requested after one long final lick, backing off of the maine coon until he was sitting on the floor of the crate with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap. He looked positively devious in the dim light, night vision or no; his fangs and claws were growing uncontrollably in comparison to his two brothers, and the rest of him wasn't far behind, as he had shot up in height much faster than either of them had. Although he was just as wire-thin as they were from a lack of food, he was easily the biggest of the three brothers.

"Look what I brought for us," he said excitedly, retreating into the opposite corner of the crate. Where there had been nothing before, now he pulled out a fish as big as him, which needed both of his hands to drag. Both him and the fish appearing suddenly from nowhere didn't bother either Munkustrap or Tugger in the least; although all three of them had been more than a little freaked out when Macavity's powers had started manifesting, they were all most than used to it by now. Tugger's eyes lit up at the sight of what was easily the biggest meal they had had in weeks, but Munkustrap, although nearly salivating, was more skeptical.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, frowning slightly at their wild-haired brother. Macavity went from the same sort of excitement as Tugger to a more stern expression, staring darkly at Munkustrap.

"Why does it matter?" he asked, dumping the fish between himself and Tugger. "What's important is that we can finally eat."

"I know, but-" Munkustrap shook his head, sitting next to Tugger on the opposite side of their meal from Macavity. "You're taking these things from the humans, right? They don't belong to us."

Macavity rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Yeah, so? They're not going to miss one single fish, and it's enough to keep us fed until we can find a better place to search for scraps." Most of the alleyways near the restaurants and grocers were already occupied by other cats or homeless humans, none of which were eager to share their food supplies, even with three starving tomkits.

Munkustrap furrowed his brow, considering his brother's words carefully. It was true that it was only a single fish, and from what he had seen at the grocer's before being chased out by an angry human wielding a broom, they had hundreds of them. And it would keep their bellies full for a while. He didn't like the idea of outright taking something that didn't belong to them, not like the trash they dug through that the humans didn't want anymore, but it would keep them alive and that was all that should matter, wasn't it? Surely no one would care about them stealing just enough to stay alive.

Tugger and Macavity had already started on the fish by the time Munkustrap was done his considerations, and by the time they were finished, he was full and contented enough to wander over into one corner of the crate that had been stuffed with the remnants of an old moldy blanket they had found in the same trash pile as the towel and promptly fall asleep. Tugger moved to join him, similarly lethargic from his first truly filling meal in weeks, but Macavity took hold of his wrist when he tried to move away.

"Wait," he said in a whisper, dragging him back towards him. The fish bones and what meat was left on them had been moved off to the side without Macavity having moved at all. "I brought you something, but I didn't want Munkustrap to see. You know, in case he gets jealous or mad or something."

Tugger's eyes lit up at the promise of a present, and he obediently sat back down in front of his brother. From nowhere, the wild-haired tomkit produced a long strip of leather with metal studs dotting it and held it up for Tugger's inspection.

"It's a collar," he said with excitement. "You know, like the ones the cats who live with humans wear. I saw it in the store next to the grocer's and I thought you would like it."

Tugger stared at the collar, intensely fixated. "Can I- can I wear it?" he asked. Macavity grinned at him.

"Of course, dummy," he said, scooting closer to Tugger so he could put the collar around his neck. Tugger lifted some of the wilder fur on the back of his head out of the way so the clasp wouldn't pinch and pull at it when Macavity fixed it around his throat. "That's what I got it for. But don't let Munkustrap see it, okay? Not unless you can think of a really good excuse. You saw how he got when I told him I stole that fish."

Tugger nodded firmly, not wanting anything to come between him and his brother's gift, particularly Munkustrap. He knew the tabby kit had always been a little jealous of all the attention Tugger and Macavity gave each other, but he couldn't help it- he loved Munkustrap, too, but whenever he was around Macavity he always felt better. Safer. Macavity would always take care of him, even when Munkustrap couldn't, no matter what the cost.

"Thanks," he said somewhat bashfully, admiring the way the metal studs shined. Wearing it made him feel like the fancy housecats that lived along the street, the ones who got to live in a nice warm human home and ate big, full meals every day. "Macavity?"

"Yeah, Tugs?"

"I love you."

Macavity purred, a low rumble as he leaned forward and nuzzled into the crook of his littermate's neck.

"I love you too, Tugger."

* * *

Mistoffelees buried his face into Munkustrap's neck. He had known there had to be something more than just Macavity being their brother to the secret, and all of the things Macavity had been yelling about in the clearing made much more sense now, but he.. hadn't expected this. When he looked back up, the silver tabby was rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He was crying, although trying hard not to let the young tux see it. Mistoffelees almost didn't want to ask anymore questions, but his curiosity burned furiously, even if it had been dampened a little by seeing Munkustrap so clearly upset.

"Munkustrap.. why did Macavity leave the two of you?" he asked softly, afraid that if he spoke to loudly, he would shatter the delicate bubble surrounding the two of them and Munkustrap would throw him out. "Why did he become a full-fledged criminal?"

Munkustrap tilted his head back, having anticipated the question but still needing a few moments to compose himself to continue with his storytelling. It wasn't often that the stories he told hit so close to home, after all.

"Macavity- didn't just steal to keep us alive," he said after a few moments of silence and a few deep breaths. "He liked it, too. Liked it too much. Being able to take whatever he wanted and get away with it because of his powers was a thrill for him, and no matter how much I pleaded with him, he didn't stop." He paused, staring into the low-crackling fire sputtering in the hearth next to the two of them. "Worst of all, he was starting to get Tugger involved in it. Taking him with him so he could keep watch, or teaching him how to steal little, simple things- stuff like that. I held my tongue about it as long as I could, partly because I knew Tugger would take his side unless I had a very convincing argument for how else we could survive, partly because I was just.. _hoping_ that one day Macavity would hear what I was saying and finally stop. I didn't want to lose _either_ of my brothers, and I didn't want to live off of the life of a criminal, but it got to the point where I didn't get that choice. When I found out about Old Deuteronomy and the jellicle tribe, I made it very clear that I was leaving to go to them and I was taking Tugger with me, and Macavity would have to choose between coming with us or going off on his own."

It was blindingly clear what path the Napoleon of Crime had chosen to take.

* * *

"What do you mean, you're _leaving_?"

Macavity was all but fuming, staring down Munkustrap as Tugger sat on the crate behind them, flicking his tail in agitation. He'd known this argument was coming, known it from the moment Munkustrap had told him what he was planning- but Macavity was a reasonable cat, and once he realized what the jellicle tribe had to offer them, there was no reason he'd put up a fight anymore.

"You heard what I said, Macavity," Munkustrap said firmly. "I found our father, and a whole group of other cats who would be willing to help us. They live in a junkyard with lots of mice and rats to catch, and they all pitch in to help each other survive. We don't have to live in alleyways off of stolen food anymore."

Macavity's eyes flashed with anger, and he looked straight up at Tugger. "You're going, too?" he asked.

"Of course I'm going, Mac," Tugger said with another irritated flick of his tail, hoping down from his perch. "Do you think I _want_ to live out here anymore? It's cold, and wet, and we're lucky if we can stay in one place for more than a few days before someone comes along and runs us off."

"It's the best place for us, Macavity," Munkustrap continued. "We can get a meal and a warm place to sleep every day. And our father-"

"It's just _our father_ this and _our father_ that with you, isn't it? Well, where was _our father_ when _our mother_ died? Where was _our father_ when we were out here starving to death? Where was he then, Munk?" Macavity demanded at a dull roar. "He was _nowhere_. _I_ was here. Why would you choose an old tom and a bunch of cats you don't even know over _me_?"

"We're not _choosing_ anyone," Tugger interjected, raising his voice and stepping between Macavity and Munkustrap. "We're asking you to come with us. We don't want to go without you, Mac."

Munkustrap stepped up and put a hand on Tugger's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "But we will if we have to."

Tugger did a double-take, like he couldn't understand what Munkustrap had said. "What're you saying, Munk?" he asked harshly, looking at Macavity and then back to his other brother. "You said all three of us would go."

"I'm saying that maybe it's more than just pride keeping one of us from _wanting_ to go," Munkustrap replied, staring hard at Macavity. The larger tom scowled openly at his silver sibling, fur bristling.

"You can go cozy up to these jellicles if you want," he spat. "But count me out. I don't need anyone's help. I'm doing just fine on my own." He then looked to Tugger, his expression slightly softer but still fuming. "Although I didn't think I would have to be on my own."

He turned on his heel to walk away from his two brothers, and Tugger pulled away from Munkustrap to follow. The tabby's hand fell with some resistance, and when Tugger looked back at Munkustrap he almost couldn't meet his gaze, it was so broken. And that was when Tugger realized that there had never been a third option. No matter what, he would have been forced to choose between his brothers- Munkustrap, who had always yelled at him when he climbed too high, or scolded him for scarfing down his food too fast, or protected him from the bigger toms when Tugger had tried to take their food, and Macavity, Macavity who had fed him and comforted him and given him nice things, leaving him wanting for nothing, Macavity who told him every night that he loved him and who always curled up at his side and who taught him how to survive on his own out in the city, Macavity who was walking away for what was probably the last time and forcing him to make a choice.

"Macavity, wait!"

When the bedraggled tom looked back at Tugger there was some hope in his face, but that quickly fled when he saw what Tugger was holding in his hand.

"I think you should take this back," he said, dropping the metal-studded leather collar in Macavity's palm. "I- don't think I should wear it anymore."

When Macavity looked at Tugger, there was so much betrayal and hurt in his eyes that it was almost painful to look at him. When his fist clenched around the collar, however, that expression changed from pain to malice.

"Fine then," he spat, nodding in Munkustrap's direction. "Go to him. But don't come crawling to me when you see how wrong he is."

And with that, Macavity walked away, and it took every bit of self-control Tugger had not to chase after him and apologize and beg for him to take him with him. It wasn't until he felt Munkustrap's hand back on his shoulder that he even remembered his other brother was still there with him, waiting for him so they could leave for the jellicle junkyard.

"C'mon," he said softly. "Let's go before it starts to rain."

Tugger nodded dully, and as they walked, Munkustrap took the maine coon's hand in his own and held onto him like the world was coming to an end.

* * *

Tugger stood atop the tallest junk pile near Munkustrap's den. It hadn't been easy to convince Alonzo not to tell Munkustrap when he came back, not with all that had happened and with the way Munkustrap was asking for him, but eventually he'd gotten his brother's best friend to agree. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Munkustrap at the moment- it was that he wasn't ready to.

Years ago he had made a choice about which brother to follow and which to leave behind, and it had haunted him so much that he couldn't even face Macavity to save his own father. He had loved Macavity more than anything in the world- naively, perhaps, but he had adored him all the same. Leaving him behind was the most painful thing he ever had to do, but it had been what was right. He had to at least make himself believe that.

The maine coon looked down at the old collar in his hand. It was too small to fit him now, and the leather was dull and worn both from age and from how often he had worn it as a kit, but Macavity had otherwise kept it in perfect condition. Even the studs still caught the light a little, as though they had been kept polished over the years.

He held it close to his face, breathed the scent of the old leather in deeply with a shuddery breath, and tossed it as far into the junkyard as he possibly could.

He should have been surprised to see Munkustrap behind him out of the corner of his eye, both because he shouldn't have known he was here yet and because of the injury he'd sustained from Macavity during their confrontation, but he strangely wasn't. Maybe because Mistoffelees was there with him, letting Munkustrap lean on him a little, and nothing was really all that implausible when Mistoffelees decided to get himself involved in it.

"I can't believe he kept it all these years," Tugger said loudly, making it clear that he knew the pair was standing behind him. "He never seemed like the sentimental type."

"He loved you," Munkustrap replied earnestly, moving away from Mistoffelees even if he was still a little unsure on his feet. "Maybe still does. I know it wasn't an easy decision for you-"

"No," Tugger cut him off, raising a hand. "No, it was easy. That was the worst part. I didn't even have to think twice about who I was going to go with. If I had left with Macavity I would probably be dead by now."

Munkustrap nodded and Mistoffelees faded further into the background, not wanting to leave in case he was needed but feeling increasingly like he was intruding. Tugger turned around to face his brother, wiping at forming tears with the heel of his palm.

"So why do I still feel like I wanna go to him, Munk?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Why, after all this damn time, do I _still fucking care_?"

No words came easily, and all Munkustrap could think to do was step forwards and hold his arms out. Tugger all but fell into them, clinging so tightly to his brother that his claws almost drew blood and sobbing into his shoulder with an uncontrollable fervor.

"Because he's our brother," Munkustrap said softly. "And he's always going to be."

* * *

Mungojerrie turned the piece he'd nicked from the yard over and over in his hand, rehearsing what he was going to say as he stepped into Macavity's office. When he raised a fist to knock on the wall next to the curtain and Macavity was already raising it up and glaring at him with the pure, unbridled hatred of a tom with a raging hangover, however, all of that rehearsed speech disappeared in an instant.

"What. Do you. Want?" Macavity hissed each part seperately and quietly, as though talking any louder would split his head open. Given what Mungojerrie had seen of him in the junkyard, that wouldn't be an unfair assumption.

"I, uh," he stammered, falling over his words. "Rumple and me, we, uh, thought you'd wan'- you'd wanna have this. Tugger tossed it, we figure. Found it in the trash heaps." The cat burglar held out the strip of leather he'd had in his hand and Macavity snatched it up quickly. Momentarily, his boss' expression sank, but it quickly turned back into one of absolute rage.

"Get out of here," he growled, without his usual threat, but the tone of his voice was enough that he didn't really need one to send Mungojerrie skittering off to hide.

Macavity let the curtain fall once his minion was out of sight, retreating back into his dark office. The windows had been covered and only a few small candles lit it up, because anything more was making him see constant spots in his vision and giving him a constant headache. By the light of one of the candles, he held up the thin strip of leather, dotted with no-longer-pristine metal studs. Too small to fit a grown cat's neck, it was all but useless to him- a piece of sentimental junk.

The crime lord sunk into his chair and held the little piece of leather tightly to his chest, as if it were the last thing anchoring him to the world.

With a shuddering breath, he reached for the metal polish he kept in the top drawer of his desk.


	2. What Could Have Been

**A/N:** Not a contiuation, but an alternate ending of sorts. Not in any way happier, but perhaps more fulfilling depending on where your loyalties lie.

Contains stronger hints of slash, some overly affectionate behavior between siblings, and one off-handed blatant mention of incest. Assumes the characters are anthropomorphic as represented in the film and on stage.

* * *

There was never a way their secret could have ended well. Munkustrap and Tugger had both known that when they'd made the decision to keep it hidden from the other members of the tribe. Old Deuteronomy had done them great favor in keeping it hidden for so long, but it simply couldn't stay a secret forever. They were too close to it; it was too raw, even years later.

Tugger watched from afar as Alonzo scooped Munkustrap into his arms, carrying the tabby under his back and legs. Macavity's punch hadn't seemed to do any extreme damage, but it would certainly leave him with some bruising and a lot of pain for a while. Mistoffelees and Demeter both lingered nearby as well, but neither rushed to his aid the same way Alonzo did, although for very different reasons; Demeter was still reeling from the revelation that her mate was Macavity's brother, and Mistoffelees was still walking on eggshells around Munkustrap after the incident that had spawned the entire chain of events. Jennyanydots was trying her best to quell the chaos that had sprung up in Macavity's wake; many of the toms and queens had either run off to their dens after Macavity had disappeared, while others lingered to watch the aftermath, and the kits were all shaken and terrified by the event (Pouncival, he noticed, had managed to wedge himself into a crack between a discarded oven and an old headboard, and Skimbleshanks was having quite the time convincing him to come out).

With Munkustrap in capable hands and the other cats all otherwise preoccupied, Tugger saw his chance to get away and he took it. Once the junkyard had been sorted out, questions would be asked- questions that could no longer remain unanswered if the brothers hoped to retain their places within the tribe. And he couldn't handle that right now. His mind was still absolutely reeling, and he had no idea what he would even _say_ if someone asked him something right now.

Sneaking out was easy, worryingly so. No one was manning the front gate, and everyone was in too much of a panic to notice even one of the centers of attention making his escape. He managed to get several blocks away and into an eavestrough before his brain started kicking back in and the guilt of leaving Munkustrap started flooding into him. He had always left his brother to clean up his messes, and he had long ago convinced himself that Macavity was his mess. After all, Munkustrap had only kept the secret for so long to protect _him_, hadn't he? To protect him from the shame of people knowing how much he had loved someone like Macavity.

Of people knowing how much he still loved someone like Macavity.

He held the tiny leather collar in his hands, rubbing it between his hands. Such a tiny thing, just big enough to fit the neck of a slender kitten, but it felt impossibly large, like an anchor keeping him weighted down somewhere in the past.

He gripped it close to his chest for a few minutes before clipping it around his belt, the only safe way he could think of keeping it affixed to himself. It was far too small to wear anymore, after all.

(Not that he would have wanted to wear it if it hadn't been, he told himself. He had burned that bridge as a kitten; he had given it back for a reason. The only reason he hadn't tossed it in the junkyard was because it would make people ask even more questions.)

Unsure of where to go from there, he wandered around on rooftops and through alleyways completely without aim. He couldn't go back to the junkyard, not yet; similarly, his human home would be far too easy to find him at, and he knew at least someone would be looking for him. All he wanted was time to be alone with his thoughts.

Macavity and Tugger hadn't been face-to-face since they had gone their separate ways as kittens. Tugger had gone out of his way to make sure of that, and Munkustrap had done everything he could to help. The most he had seen of Macavity was the occasional picture or sketch of the mystery cat, of which very few existed, or a wayward backwards glance during one of his raids on the yard. Macavity seemed to have a difficult time staying away from the jellicles, something Tugger also occasionally blamed himself for, although less so now that the tribe had acquired a number of cats with past or current connections to the Napoleon of crime. It had been easy to disconnect himself from his brother that way; he barely ever saw him and when he did he was something alien to him, with fur like fire and teeth and claws like knives. The Macavity he had once known was just a shaggy grey-brown tomkit with an uncontrollable mane and a body that refused to stop growing. That was the Macavity he missed.

That was the Macavity he had seen in the Junkyard. Just thinking about that made his chest hurt. He had grown into his body, no longer an out-of-proportion kitten but a tall and lean tom. Even his completely unkempt mane fit him now, making him into the image of a feral beast rather than an unwashed child. He was exactly what he had seen walking away from him years ago, only older and incredibly broken.

Or maybe he had always been like that. Maybe he had just been too close to him to see it.

He jumped at the sound of the _clatter-clang_ of a tipped-over trashcan, his fur standing completely on end. It was only when Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer appeared from under the fallen lid that the bristling in his fur stopped, to be replaced by the furious lashing of his tail.

"What are _you two_ doing here?" he asked with a haughty sniff. He hadn't actually seen the two of them in the junkyard when Macavity had shown up, but given his perfect timing, it wasn't hard to figure out that the two of them had played some part. Their work for him was a secret to no one, although the fact that they were little more than pranksters who stole the occasional Sunday roast made them decidedly unthreatening to the tribe. Munkustrap and Alonzo tolerated their presence as long as they didn't cause trouble for the jellicles themselves.

The two cat burglars exchanged a long look, then turned back to him with painfully sympathetic facial expressions. Siblings quite literally thick as thieves, it was easy to see why they felt sorry for him after his and Munkustrap's exchange with Macavity. It was Mungojerrie who spoke first, likely because he was the one who knew Tugger better between the two.

"We 'eard they were lookin' for you," he said, taking a step towards Tugger while crouching. "The cats from the yard, I mean. Munkustrap's bin askin' after you."

"The two of you aren't really the type to do favors for Munkustrap," Tugger said, resting his thumbs in his belt and leaning against the brick wall. "Why did you follow me?" He had only guessed they had followed him rather than stumbling upon him by sheer blind luck, and judging by their guilty facial expressions and the droop of their ears, he was right.

"We figured you wouldn't wanna go back to the yard, what with all the chaos," Rumpleteazer replied, crouching behind her brother-mate with her hands on his shoulders. "An' we thought after all o'that, you might wanna.."

"..you know, see 'im? And talk to 'im."

Tugger's heart jumped into his throat. He could see by their expressions that they genuinely meant well- just trying to reunite two estranged siblings, like in those terrible shows his humans liked to watch sometimes. It wasn't like they knew why Macavity had cut ties with his brothers (although the answer was fairly obvious), or how things had ended between them, or- or how he had felt about the whole situation. What the collar meant. What seeing Macavity again after so long meant. He squeezed the leather loop fixed to his belt and pressed the metal studs into his palm.

He had a choice. He could go back, try to repair what had been broken years ago. Even in his own head he could tell how stupid that was, but seeing Macavity's back turned to him like that for a second time made him want to do whatever it took to get back what was lost.

_No one ever accused you of being the smart brother,_ people had told him time and time again. Munkustrap had always been the smart, dependable, reliable one, and he'd always been the energetic, flighty, fickle one.

_If you do this now there's no turning back._

No, no one had ever accused him of being the smart brother.

* * *

Macavity curled more tightly into his nest of blankets stashed in the back corner of his office, keeping his eyes firmly closed. Although he'd made an excellent show of appearing put together and furious in front of the jellicles, even landing a perfect hit on Munkustrap with his back turned (which had been a complete stroke of very fulfilling luck), he was a complete wreck. Almost a full bottle of wine taken mouthfuls at a time did not do the body well, nor did disappearing and reappearing frequently while excessively drunk; the entire room was spinning and the regretful headache was just starting to kick in. Anticipating a long and terrible night, he had informed the first of his henchcats who had come along to make it clear that he was not to be disturbed until he said otherwise.

When the knocking came from the wall beside his office entrance, it was also clear that not everyone had gotten the memo.

"Somebody had better be _dying_," he growled, turning himself over as slowly as possible to keep the room more or less still in his vision.

"Uh, we could come back later if you-"

"What do you _want_?" he demanded. It was Rumpleteazer, of course it was; her and her idiotic brother, most likely. They'd still been at the junkyard when he'd made his exit, and while he had told them to report back on any strange happenings in the yard after he left, it was a hell of a time for them to suddenly gain a sense of punctuality.

"We brought someone who wanted to see you," she replied quickly, and it would have been hard _not_ to hear the well-conditioned fear in her voice. "It's, uh- sorta important."

Macavity pushed himself out of his blankets, every part of him protesting immensely. His body wanted nothing more than for him to lay in bed and sleep off the rest of his self-inflicted torment, at least until the environment could stay still while he was moving, but he had to at least roast the thief pair for whatever inane reason they had disturbed him. He smoothed down his fur as much as was possible for him to begin with, making himself as put-together as he could manage.

"What do you two-"

As he peeled back the curtain that acted as his office door, ready to take out all of his frustrations on the unfortunate thieves, he froze. It wasn't either Rumpleteazer or Mungojerrie who greeted him, although he was vaguely aware of them lingering in the background- it was Tugger.

His false air of composure faltered momentarily at the sight of his brother, but he was quick to regain it. Tugger being there didn't change what had happened between them in the junkyard- what had happened between them when they were kittens. Tugger regarded his cold, airy stare with his hip cocked, thumbs slotted into his belt, a shit-eating grin, and eyes that betrayed so much raw emotion that Macavity's heart sank.

"Hey," he said casually, with a shrug of the shoulders. "Can I come in?"

Macavity gave him a curt nod, pulling the curtain aside to allow him entry and immediately closing it again, not that he thought Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie would have any interest in joining them. Tugger walked into the room with a natural swagger, took a quick look around, and turned back to Macavity.

"What are you doing here?" the Hidden Paw asked, only just managing to keep his voice even. Tugger shrugged, trying to fake nonchalance.

"I wanted to see you," he replied, mirroring what Rumpleteazer had said. "To just- talk, I guess."

Macavity couldn't imagine what there was to be said between them. How could anyone fit years of pain and betrayal into simple words? He considered himself to be something of a wordsmith and even considering it made his head spin. Too much time, too many memories- they made him feel sick.

"I think you've said enough," he said gruffly, keeping his arms folded closely around him. It gave him a stern image, when in reality his main goal was to keep himself from throwing up. Tugger's unexpected appearance was hardly ideal for the state of his already distressed stomach. The edges of the maine coon's mouth tightened as he nodded; both of them had said damaging things to the other, which was hardly surprising given the situation.

"I just wanted to see you," Tugger admitted with a bit more honesty, moving his head from side to side and strictly avoiding eye contact. "I mean, I haven't since we were kits."

"I've been to your precious junkyard before," he pointed out, wanting to step closer to his brother but keeping his feet firmly planted. _All times when you were mysteriously absent_, a thought that went unsaid; he knew Tugger had been avoiding him. Tugger gave him the tired remnants of a grin.

"We both know that would've been a bad idea, Mac," he said with heartbreaking honesty. The use of his childhood nickname- something only Tugger had ever called him, because he had hated the way it sounded when Munkustrap did- made the thing clawing inside of his chest even more persistent.

He took a good, long look at the other tom. The last time he had seen Tugger, he had been a scraggly kit with dirt-matted fur that refused to be groomed down and a lanky, misproportioned body. That image had stuck with him over the years and had made it hard for him to reconcile his mental image of his brother with the feline heartthrob Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had described. But now he could see it- he had grown into his mane, developed a sleek dancer's body that was all the rage among the jellicles because of their frequent need to outperform each other, and oozed a confidence that would have made Macavity hate any other cat.

In a subconscious way that came only with years of practice at his art, his fur started to shift from its false reds and oranges and blacks to its natural color and patterning before he even realized it was happening. When he had been forced to become a predator in order to survive in the criminal world, he had quickly learned how to look the part- terrifying without being completely alien. He had let his naturally shaggy fur grow out, had kept his claws long and filed to deadly points, and maintained a jaw full of fangs that would have looked more appropriate on a tiger than a tabby-coon mix. His coloring had been the final touch, one last warning to anyone who would try to cross him; he was poison, and he would kill indiscriminately. The red cat with his sunken eyes and fierce markings was the Hidden Paw, the Napoleon of crime, the criminal cat that everyone feared if they knew what was good for them.

The grey-brown mess of shag that he hid underneath his magic was just- Macavity. And just-Macavity would never be as strong as he wanted those around him to think he was. He was weak, emotional, and horrifyingly broken, the sort of broken that came with being alone for too long in the lifestyle he chose to live. And he had never been weaker than he was in this moment, because some part of him, the part that made his chest ache and his head spin, wanted nothing more than to forgive Tugger his every indiscretion and beg forgiveness for his own.

Tugger's own falsified confidence fell quite visibly as Macavity shifted from the stuff of jellicle nightmares to his familiar brother. There they were, two cats who should have wanted nothing to do with each other, dropping their guards in front of each other like their ties hadn't been thoroughly severed years ago.

"Then why?" Macavity asked, and what was meant to come out as fierce only came out as hoarse and desperate. Why now did Tugger come to him, after making such a spectacle of keeping him the dark secret shoved away in the back of his mind? Was it simply a way of tormenting him, punishment for what had happened in the junkyard? For once it had been Munkustrap who had attacked first, albeit not entirely unprevoked- but he knew from accounts how close his two brothers had become in his absence.

"Because the secret's out now, Mac," he replied earnestly. "What've I got to hide anymore?" And when he raised his hands in the accompanying gesture, with them came the little leather loop of a collar that had been attached to his belt, which he had failed to even notice prior to that.

There it was. The last strand of Macavity's carefully woven facade of power and indifference, cut completely by a cat he hadn't so much as seen since kittenhood. The awkard kit he would have given the world for was now the confident tom he would have destroyed the world to have back.

He stepped forwards, tentatively, closing the gap between himself and his brother. His body was moving of its own accord, in spite of what his brain was telling him; _he is still your enemy. He is still one of them. _As he pulled him into the tightest embrace he had ever graced on another creature, that was the furthest thought from his mind.

* * *

Tugger had no idea what he'd been looking for when he'd followed Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer to what they'd quaintly (and accurately) described as Macavity's lair, but it certainly hadn't been this. Or maybe it had been and he simply hadn't noticed it. The intelligent part of his brain had told him that he'd simply come looking for the closure he'd been denied when Macavity had first left them, but every other part of him knew that was a blatant lie. He'd come running at the first sight of his brother as he always feared he would, just as he always had when they were kits.

Macavity's hug was bone-crushing and made his ribs ache, but he couldn't help but bury his face in musky shag and cling back like he would be carried off otherwise. He had loved Macavity like no one else. How could he say no to this?

Macavity let out a shuddering breath and held him at arms length, shaking him lightly by the shoulders. A small smile that almost couldn't be seen passed across his face.

"You grew up," he said, cupping Tugger's face in his hand. "I'm sorry I missed it." In response, Tugger nuzzled against his hand, relishing in the contact. He was beginning to question why he had ever wanted anything but this, why he had spent so many years avoiding his brother so completely.

After what seemed like ages but was still not nearly enough time for his taste, Macavity dropped his hand and rubbed his forehead, brows furrowed. He had nearly forgotten the circumstances that had led him there, but he couldn't imagine the empty bottle of wine sitting on Macavity's desk meant anything good.

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked, nodding to the pile of blankets in the back corner. Macavity nodded; lingering somewhere in the realm between drunk and hungover, keeping himself upright and presentable was a difficult and tiring process. He took Tugger by the wrist and led him to the blanket nest, sitting him down and all but collapsing next to him.

Tugger didn't know what else there was to say. How much could you really say to a brother you hadn't seen in so many years? Was he supposed to ask what life had been like for him all that time? It was fairly obvious was life had been like; he had been a criminal. _The _criminal. He had spent years building a reputation that had cats scurrying away at the very mention of his name, constructing an enterprise that profited off of the pain and misfortune of others. How much of the dirty work was actually done by Macavity was a topic of wide debate, but what was not debatable was the fact that he had no problem with stealing, destroying, and even killing to get what he wanted.

And still he wanted to be here.

Macavity tugged at his wrist until he laid down beside him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. It was the same sort of affection they had shown each other as kits, and it made him feel as though time had turned backwards. There was no more hiding or trying to forget; there was only his brother's warm body curled up next to his, promising safety and affection and a life where he wanted for nothing. It was the same idyllic delusion he'd always had.

He let himself be pulled into the warmth of his brother's thick fur, and all he could think about was why he hadn't chosen to come back to him sooner.

* * *

Macavity was entirely unused to letting his guard down around other cats, but it came so easily to him around Tugger that it might as well have been second nature. He laid there with Tugger in a state of wavering consciousness until the room had stopped spinning and the fiercely pounding headache set in, and by then Tugger was a pile of contentedly snoring brown-gold fur next to him.

More or less sitting up and trying to avoid waking the other tom at the same time, he took the tiny leather collar that Tugger was still holding onto and clipped it back onto his belt. It was such a little thing, but somehow it had managed to bring his brother back to him, and if that wasn't worth being sentimental over he didn't know what was.

He pushed a strand of Tugger's hair out of his face and watched the way it rebelliously sprung back into place. Macavity couldn't say he was a fan of the ruffled rock star look, but it didn't look bad on Tugger; the only thing he could honestly say he couldn't stand was the ridiculous spiked collar he was wearing, no doubt an adornment courtesy of whatever humans had taken him in. Carefully, he reached around and released the clasp, making the collar fall off of Tugger immediately. The maine coon snorted a little in his sleep but otherwise didn't so much as stir as Macavity moved about. He tossed the gaudy collar to the far side of the room; he would have to find Tugger a suitable replacement on his next venture. Something that didn't offend his sensibilities just by looking at it.

After all, Tugger was here to stay. He had let him go once, and it was one of the few things in his life that he had always truly regretted. Munkustrap had taken him away, into a world Macavity couldn't hope to reach- had taught him that being his brother was something to be ashamed of and keep hidden until Tugger had believed it so fully that he fled at so much as the mention of Macavity's name. He and Munkustrap had never been close, but taking Tugger to the jellicles had inspired a resentment in him that had bled out across the rest of the tribe, and learning of his furious desire to keep him a dirty family secret had only served as fuel for the fire.

Munkustrap had taken everything from him once. It was only fair that he get a chance to return the favor. He would remind Tugger what it was like to be loved by him- to have the world laid at your feet for your taking. And if that didn't work, well. He had ways of making himself loved, hated, admired, feared, or all of the above.

He stood up, carefully disentangling himself from his brother. It felt like someone was playing the drums on the inside of his skull and his stomach churned like it was full of bad seafood, but there was a renewed vigor to his movements anyway. He had finally won the battle he hadn't even realized he was still fighting, and it was a terribly sweet victory. His head had barely been poked through the curtain before one of his henchcats was scurrying up to tend to his needs; if you hoped to stick around as one of Macavity's nameless underlings, you practically had to be psychic, perfectly attuned to his every desire.

"Fetch me Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer," he said curtly. "Tell them I have a message for them to deliver."

* * *

Munkustrap stepped carefully out of his den, a shoulder wrapped around Mistoffelees' shoulders and leaning some of his weight against the small tomkit. His stomach throbbed and burned with every wanton movement, but he wouldn't allow Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer to come into his den and see him completely prone, not when they came baring an official message from Macavity.

Although the thieves were hardly the most well-liked cats in the tribe on a regular day, the looks they were given and the murmurs tossed about by the others were particularly vicious in the wake of Macavity's visit. It was as though, lacking the ability to take their anger and fear out on the hidden paw himself, the siblings took the heat in his stead. Munkustrap simply stood and watched as they walked along the row of spectators, heads hung shamefully low. He would not blame them for the actions of others, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to speak up on behalf of an agent of Macavity's, not then. Particularly not with the revelation of his own connection to the criminal cat so fresh in everyone's minds.

"You have a message for me?" he asked firmly, standing up as straight as he could manage and dropping his arm from around Mistoffelees' shoulders, no matter how much it hurt. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer stopped at a respectful distance, heads still hung, unable to meet the tabby cat's eyes. One of the cats in the crowd hissed, and he raised a hand for silence. The hush that fell over the other cats was stifling.

"You think we could- maybe talk in private?" Mungojerrie asked unsurely, trying not to meet any judgemental stares. Munkustrap lifted his chin, staring down his nose at the thief.

"Anything Macavity wants me to know can be shared with the rest of the tribe," he replied firmly, crossing his arms lightly to avoid putting any pressure on his already terribly sore injury. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer exchanged an unsure look, and she reached into her bag and pulled out something long and thin, presenting it to Munkustrap.

"He wanted you to have this," she said softly, dumping it in Munkustrap's hand like it was hot to the touch.

Munkustrap unfolded the long strip of leather across his fingers. Black, with hilariously over-the-top spikes that he had always said would poke someone's eye out if they weren't paying attention.

Tugger's collar.

He stared at it in disbelief for a few moments before clutching it to his chest with one hand, the other going to Mistoffelees' shoulder to balance himself when his composed air fell apart and the pain in his stomach became overwhelming. He closed his eyes tightly, as though when he opened them the entire ordeal from beginning to end would just be some terrible dream that he was long due to wake up from.

The only sight that greeted him was the guilty and concerned faces of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.

"We're sorry," Mungojerrie said, terribly delicately. He reached out to touch the jellicle protector, just a comforting pat, but was stopped by his sister midway. They had done damage enough already, and it wasn't the sort that could be fixed by apologies or comforting touches. The two turned and walked away, shrinking closer to each other as the other cats hissed when they passed.

Munkustrap stood there for what felt like hours before Mistoffelees reached up and took the hand draped around his shoulders in both of his own, squeezing tightly.

There was never a way their secret could have ended well.


End file.
